A Lion's Heart [Game Of Thrones] [Robb Stark]

II - Feast Fit For a King

When it came time for the feast, Robb Stark knocked on Lyra's door. He was nervous. She was the sister of the queen, after all.

The door swung open to reveal Lyra in a glimmering gold dress, with red embroidery on the neckline and the sleeves near her wrists. Her hair was in a braided updo done by one of her hand maidens. She was the spitting image of a girl from King's Landing, but somehow Robb pictured her so well in the North.

He was so flabbergasted that he forgot what he had planned to say. "Good evening, my Lady." He bowed awkwardly.

Lyra giggled at Robb and his goofy smile. "I told you to call me Lyra."

"My apologies. Are you ready, then, Lyra?" He enjoyed the way her name came off his tongue.

"Yes, Robb. Thank you." She took his outstretched arm and allowed him to lead her on.

"You look quite beautiful tonight," he said as they walked. "Not that you did not look great before. In fact, I think you are beautiful all the time. I am sorry--"

Lyra's face flushed before she finally stopped his rambling. "Thank you. There is nothing to forgive." He was cute when he was flustered, she had to admit. "You are not too bad yourself, young wolf."

"And you? What shall you be, if I am to be the 'young wolf'?"

"Of course you have heard already. I am the 'sickly lion' they speak of across Westeros." Lyra was not unaware of the wide-spread gossip that travelled the seven kingdoms. This boy was sure to have been told stories, true or otherwise.

Robb gazed at her quizzically. He knew of the tales of the youngest Lannister from his studies. However, Lyra had already flipped every assumption he had before she arrived.

"You don't seem all that sickly to me, my Lady," he finally spoke.

She sent him a sly smile. There was definitely more to her than could be seen. "I do hate formalities, Robb."

She spoke no further on the subject, therefore Robb considered it closed. They moved on to other subjects, such as her never-ending queries.

"Oh, if only it were a ball and not just a feast. I would love to dance," Lyra said. Her eyes were far away, thinking of extravagant balls and exciting dances.

"We could dance right here, if you wish," Robb offered.

"Here? In the hall?"

"Why not?"

An entertained smile grew on her face. "Dance with me then, Robb."

They turned in a few circles, he spun her a couple times, and finally dipped her low. It was short but sweet.

Robb felt as if he could become intoxicated from her laughter. Her giggles echoed through the hall like soft bells ringing. There was a magic to the sound, and he never wanted it to stop.

Still, they did need to join the feast; the two were late as it was.

As they walked into the dining hall, Lyra stopped in her place to take in the sight. They were people everywhere, drinking, eating, and carrying on.

"There's someone missing," she said.

Robb looked at the floor, ashamed. "Mother thought it would look odd to have Jon present."

Lyra, pure of heart, found this troubling. "And he is alone? How awful. I should like to say hello."

Robb was shocked to hear such words from a lady of her status. To feel for the plight of a bastard was unlike the noble. Surely, he would not deny her wishes.